Out of the haze ahead emerged the blob of light that marked the neighborhood drug store. As they approached they could see two or three standing near the front door of the store.
Ed Rickey, captain of the football team, jerked open the door.
“Greetings, wanderers of the storm. Enter and be of good cheer.”
They stamped the snow off their boots and stepped inside. Cora Dean and Margie Blake were there. Boon companions, they were seldom apart.
“Hello,” said Margie, but there was no warmth in the greeting.
“Hello,” replied Janet.
“You must think you’re going to the north pole,” put in Cora, as she looked Janet and Helen over coolly.
“Well, not quite that far, but we believe in being sensible and warm,” replied Helen, and Cora’s face flamed, for both she and Margie, always trying to make an impression, were dressed in fashionable riding breeches of serge. They were pleasing to look at, but hardly the thing for comfort on a night when the temperature might drop almost to zero. Instead of coats they wore zipper sweaters of angora wool. Their boots were fashionable, but light, and would be of little use in withstanding any severe cold.
“Here comes the bus,” said Ed Rickey, who was bundled up in nondescript clothes.
“All out that’s going to Youde’s,” he bellowed, imitating a train caller.